Page 24 of Dangerous Secrets

Brewster barks out orders and the nurses follow them. Dad coughs and heaves, his body lurching on the table. I watch as his face contorts with pain and his eyes roll back into his head. I can hear the frantic beeping of the heart monitor and the sound of my own heart pounding in my chest.

The chaos in the room seems to slow down as my father gasps for breath. I move closer to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. The warmth of his skin seeps through my fingers, and I can feel the tremors wracking his body. Nurses listen to his breathing sounds through their stethoscopes and shout words I don't understand, medication doses and vital stats. I lean in closer, trying to hear what they're saying, but it's all a blur. My thoughts are jumbled, my emotions running high.

As the minutes tick by, his breathing becomes shallow and labored. The beeping of the heart monitor grows weaker, slower. Brewster prepares a needle and injects its contents into my father's IV port. And things calm down. The beeping of the heart monitor slows down to a steady rhythm, and my father's breathing stabilizes. The nurses exchange relieved glances, and Brewster pats me on the back. I can't help but let out a sigh of relief.

Dad's eyes stay fixed on mine, and I know that he's not out of the woods yet. He squeezes my hand weakly, and I can feel the strength draining from his grip.

"Dad," I whisper, my throat tight with emotion. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." I sit back down in the chair as one by one the nurses leave. Brewster lingers. He knows his place is to make my father comfortable until he dies, and he won't stray far from the room now.

He manages a weak smile, and I can see the love and pride in his eyes. "I know, son," he rasps. "You're strong. You'll carry on our legacy."

I take his hand again and hold it, feeling how weak he seems now. I remember a time as a boy I thought my father was the strongest man I knew. At times I still think that—that it took a man of his stature to rise to the occasion all those times life thought it would defeat him, and only in his aged state will it defeat him. Only because sickness weakened his mortal frame.

“Dad…” I am plagued by things I can’t even begin to express now. Things that only the death of a loved one can bring to the surface.

“Son…” he coughs and I fear another fit is coming, but he calms down.

“How did you know Mom was the one?” I watch his face as he relaxes and smiles. He’s talked about seeing her again when he passes and though I’m not sure what I believe about the afterlife, I hope for his sake, he’s right.

“I knew she was the one…” His chest rattles as he speaks. “When she told me she will kill me if I crossed her.” He tries to laugh, but it turns into a violent coughing fit again, this time complete with Brewster mopping blood off his chest and lips as he recovers his breath. After a few minutes of rasping and sucking air he continues. “I needed a strong woman to match my strong responsibility, and your mother was it.”

I squeeze his hand harder and sigh. That’s exactly who Bianca is to me, the strong woman who matches me toe-to-toe.

“Rome, your father needs to rest.” Brewster purses his lips. “Let’s give him a bit of time to sleep.” The old vet backs away and I take his hint, though it’s difficult knowing this may be the last time I see him alive. I pat his leg as I stand and his eyes flutter shut.

I’m met in the hallway by Sven. The look on his face is not pleasant. I know he’s got bad news, but at least I know it isn’t about Dad this time.

“What is it?” I rub my forehead, and try to push the thought of my dying father out of my mind. It’s going to happen and no one can stop it. All we can do is move on now and keep this family together.

“We lost Trip…”

Trip—a manager at one of our restaurants—I wonder what happened. “How? Why?”

“All I know is that the same sort of dart used to kill Dimitri, to tranquilize you, it was used on him too.” Sven jams his hands into his jeans pockets and shakes his head. “He was moving precious jewels for us, Rome. Millions of dollars of them. We have no connection to this guy in Sri Lanka now. This is really bad timing. The Italians are cutting off our supply.”

“And it seems like L’ombra is leading the charge.” All I can think about is how she got the jump on me. I should have been more careful, vigilant even. She could have killed me on the spot. The question of why she didn’t lingers in my mind too. She had the opportunity to do it, and she keeps taking out these low-level players in our family. Why not me? Why not last week?

“We have to get ahead of this, Rome. Word is they’re going to try to infiltrate Dad’s funeral. It means we have to take her out before she takes us out.” Sven sounds convinced that the assassin is close enough to know when and where we’ll have the wake. Which means she’s closer than I think too.

“You think an assassin known for being a distance killer is going to try to kill all of us at once? We have no record of her ever using a bomb. That would be the only way.” I wrack my brain, thinking of all the stories we’ve heard of L’ombra, all the known instances of her murdering one of our own.

“You’re certain it’s a woman? And what if she’s not working alone? She’s employed by the Italian don, for Christ’s sake.”

We walk toward the front door, deep in thought. I’m absolutely positive the assassin is a woman. There is no doubt in my mind, especially given the events and the way they’ve unfolded. “Sven, the Shadow is a woman. I know it in my gut. The perfume, killing at a distance, drugging me to give me some cryptic warning rather than just killing me… It makes sense.”

“So how do we catch her?” He turns and stops and I stop with him, facing him. All of us have a bit too much emotion invested into this now. We’re taking out our anger over our father’s sickness on anyone and anything that moves.

“I set a trap.” I run my tongue over my teeth and stare up the hallway toward the room where my father lays dying. “We put out a notice that I want to speak with her. Then we plant snipers, you and Leo, on rooftops. We cast a net out so there is no escape, and when she shows, we take her out. No mercy.”

“You think this will work?” he asks, and I detect a hint of doubt in his tone. I’m the youngest, and maybe I’m the least experienced, but I know what will work. I nod my head.

“Yes. I think so. If she wanted to kill me, she’d have done it the other night. Use me as a target. If she takes my life, the rest of you are safe at least. And you and Leo will avenge me. I know that.”

Turning, I start toward the door again and Sven says, “And about Trip? How do we replace him? Dominic is in so deep right now he’s too busy to handle matters.”

Sven is Dom’s right-hand man. I don’t have answers for his problem, but I know he’s only trying to do due diligence by talking to everyone. He’s probably already had this conversation with the others. “You’ll figure it out, even if you have to fly to Sri Lanka yourself.”

I open the door and step into the crisp evening air and take a deep breath. The smell of death lingers in Dominic’s house. At least now, Matty is on his feet again and the man responsible for his attack is breathing his last breaths too—or hers rather. L’ombra might be responsible for shooting Matty too, though now that we know her MO and the fact that she’s not a man as we suspected, I have doubts about that too. Only time will tell.

---